


Strange Tragedy

by AJ_Dallas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Dallas/pseuds/AJ_Dallas
Summary: Tragedy is what the Lestranges are known for. As the youngest in an elite family Valencia has no choice but to carry her tragic past with sophistication and grace. With Voldemort growing stronger the line between right and wrong blurs, forcing Val to choose where her true loyalty lies.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	Strange Tragedy

The Lestrange mansion stands in the middle of a picturesque countryside far from any wizarding or muggle civilization. Surrounded by lush green land and protected by even the darkest enchantments, no one can enter the premises without the express permission from the head of household, Radolphus Lestrange. White slate walls surround the main house and yard adding to the protective charms already in place. The main entrance is signified by the wrought iron as well as the large Lestrange emblem and a sign below that reads the name of the mansion, ' ** _Maison des Corbeaux_ **'. 

Radolphus apperates right in front of the gate, the only place on the property to apparate in from, and walks down the paved driveway all the way to the house. Tired from working at the Ministry it shows by his drooping shoulders and stiff gait. As he comes into the house he notices there are no children's voices, there's just silence. Nothing seems out of place, toys are strewn across the floor and enchanted dusters clean the extensive interior, yet no sign of life. Fearing the worst he drops his briefcase to the floor and draws his wand from his sleeve. “Raleigh!” He yells for his brother but gets no response. In auror fashion he searches the first floor and finds nothing. 

On the second floor he bursts into the atrium. Birds rustle their feathers at his interruption then return to cooing. The brightness blinds Radolphus for a second, the sun seems to be directed to the center of the room. Shadows of the free flying birds flit across the room, the other birds are caged up along the walls. A particularly flighty hawk gives Raleigh trouble as he tries putting it in a gleamingly clean cage. In the midst of flapping wings and loud screeching Raleigh curses before letting the bird fly away into the rafters. Right beside him eight year old Cassius hardly comes to Raleigh’s waist but continues watching him intently. Blood runs down Raleigh’s ungloved hand and drips onto the floor. “Sometimes you gotta let them go, kid…” He inspects his hand before taking off the glove and tossing it onto a nearby table. It’s then that Raleigh realizes Radolpuhs is home. His eyes linger on Radolphus’ drawn want and he gives a strained smile, showing a golden tooth. Radolphus lowers his wand to his side but his brother’s lack of a genuine smile concerns him. “Rad’s going to fix this up for me real quick,” Raleigh slaps Cassius back with his clean hand, “why don’t you start filling those feeders, Cass? I’ll be right back.” 

Birds take flight in a tight formation that briefly blocks out the light from the sun, drawing the room in darkness for a few moments. Raleigh drags Rad from the room into the dark hallway, pulling him close enough to smell the ink and burnt wood scent that clings to Rad’s suit, no doubt from his secretive job within the Department of Mysteries. Raleigh leaves a bloody smear where his hand was, staining Rad’s immaculate suit. Both have been around enough blood and gore that it doesn’t matter. 

“Where’s Valencia?” Rad demands coldly, his hand grips his wand at his side.

“In her room,” Raleigh attempts at whispering but is still loud in the echoing hall, “Rad, listen-” “ _What_ _happened_?” Raleigh pauses. “She took one of my owls today. To give to her friend Aspen to kill and eat.” He leans further inwards to Radolphus, his bloody hand drawing a new red line, “I don’t care about a dead owl but I do care that _my niece_ is taking the orders of an imaginary friend! Do you know what kind of dark magic that sounds like?” 

Rad says nothing but Raleigh can recognize his worry. Quietly protective, Rad prides himself in creating a healthy and safe home but a problem like this can’t be solved with a wand and curse. Trying to lighten the mood Raleigh gives a short laugh and releases his grip from Rad. “Well, darker than usual...Nothing you can’t handle, right?” 

“You left her alone?” 

“What was I supposed to do? Lock her in the cellar?” 

Rad shoots him a warning look as he brushes past him on the way to Valencia’s room. With her door slightly ajar he can hear her talking. “...You’ll have to go soon, Uncle Raleigh knows now…” He strains to hear any response and is careful not to make any noise. “...I don’t know where...Okay, in a few days then.” From his view he can see Val sitting on her bed with a book open, no one else in the room. He gives a quick knock on the door before coming in. Val’s head whips around but otherwise she stays in the same place. 

“Who are you talking to?” He asks calmly. 

“No one.” 

“ _Valencia Elodie._ ” She sheepishly looks down before admitting to talking to Aspen. “Did your friend ask you to steal an owl today?” 

Wide-eyed she looks up at him, abandoning her book she turns to fully face him. “He was hungry, and he’s never had owl before! I didn’t think Uncle would miss one bird. Aspen only needs one.” 

None of what she says makes Rad feel any better. “How did you meet Aspen?” 

“I found him in the tree roots but he lives in an aspen tree, that's why I named him Aspen.” 

“And where is Aspen right now?” 

“In here.” 

“Where? I need to see him.” He keeps his tone neutral and calm. Val takes a breath before reaching to her bedside table where her mother’s special jewelry box sits. He didn’t even notice that it was any different from the other normal stuff of a young girl. After dealing with dark artifacts all day he knows how truly benign the darkest arts can start out. Slowly she opens the box and reveals to him what’s inside. “Cass doesn’t think he’s real, but I’m not lying!” Val complains in a childish manner, slightly pushing the box upward for Rad to see better. 

He gets a full look. Aspen is indeed there in the box. 

He turns away from her and puts a hand to his mouth. As hard as he fights to keep any dark arts away it seems that it is already deeply ingrained into the Lestrange family. 

“Dad?” Val’s voice trembles and he hears she’s close to tears. 

He knows he has to deal with this now, so he turns back and forces a blank expression. As much emotion as he feels right now he will not subject her to them, not when she needs guidance. He sits beside her on her bed and pulls out his wand. 

* * *

Val never gave Harry Potter much thought. Being in Slytherin she's heard enough of his name from Draco. But coming face to face with him, the _famous Harry Potter_ , she was underwhelmed. Sure, he had his trademark scar but that was seemingly the only thing that distinguished him from any other classmate. 

“I think these are yours.” He kneels beside her and offers her the magazines she dropped, _Seeker Weekly_ and _Craft of Crafting_. She takes them from his grasp and stands up fully. In the wake of Mr.Malfoy and Mr.Weasley’s fight, books lay scattered along the floor and the large crowd behind them chatter loudly about it. He stands too, Val realizes that he is only taller than her by a few inches. Never one to shy away, she looks him over quite obviously. Muggle clothing, messy hair, glasses askew....With all the talk surrounding him she can hardly believe that this boy humbly handing her magazines back is the one who vanquished the Dark Lord. 

Thinking of her manners she gives a curt “thank you”, and an attempt at a smile. Her dark hair flares out behind her as she turns away. Internally she knows her attempt at courtesy probably looked more mocking than genuine, but by the time she steps over piles of books it doesn't matter. She comes to stand beside her father as he talks to Mr.Weasley. She avoids looking anywhere near Harry Potter or the Weasley children and instead focuses on the Daily Prophet photographer snapping away at the scene for front page worthy shots. Her father rests a hand on her shoulder without breaking his conversation with Weasley. 

The Prophet reporter begins pushing away the onlookers to get closer to them. Val feels her father’s grip on her shoulder tighten, adding to Val’s heightened self consciousness. She clutches her magazines to her chest and nonchalantly smooths out her robes. Growing up in the public’s prying eyes had given Val a need to constantly be presentable, even if she was simply shopping for school supplies. 

  


The next day the Daily Prophet front page headlines with the name Gilderoy Lockhart. Val is surprised and a little disappointed that the major photo is Lockhart with Harry Potter. Below their picture is the smaller candid of her and her father. Both impeccably dressed in deep black robes, which serves to highlight their sharp and somewhat haughty Lestrange looks. Val had given a blank almost bored expression, nowhere near the amount of venom her father’s death stare gave. Val’s hair was half pulled back, leaving the rest flowing straight down her back, meanwhile her father wore his wavy hair in a regulation quiff. The moving photo shined enough light to capture their shiny black hair that otherwise could have blended into their robes. Val admired the photographer for at least getting a flattering image. 

Val carefully cuts out the picture and accompanying paragraph from the newspaper. She finds her scrapbook and pastes the new clipping into place on the next blank page. As it dries she admires her work. Ever since she could understand why their family was in the news Val secretly took the clippings and compiled them in one scrapbook. Totally unrelated to her other scrapbooks which were for other things like friend photos and artwork, this scrapbook remained untitled except for the neat elongated scrawl at the bottom. It was a curse of bad luck for whoever opened the book without permission. Val returns the scrapbook to her oak wood trunk where that too has a curse placed on it. 

Val just finishes closing and locking the trunk when a loud knock startles her. Cass always knocks in the same annoying rhythmic tune before barging on in. Val looks up from the floor up to him. 

“ _What?”_

“ _What_?” He mocks her. “Get your shoes on, let’s go.” 

“I’m still packing!” Val notoriously left packing for Hogwarts a last minute decision. It usually resulted in tossing everything in her trunk messily. “I need more to pack than just a broom.” 

He smiles. His white teeth gleam in the sunlight shining through her windows. Val is annoyed with his looks. He got Warrington genes and softer, friendlier features including his ever present smile. “Don’t pack your broom, I got you a new one.” 

Cass pulls her down to the dining room where lying on the table are two shiny boxes. Beside her Cass is vibrating with excitement while Val is confused. 

“Nimbus 2001’s.” He throws an arm around Val’s shoulders and shakes her violently before pushing her. Val is unfazed by his brotherly antics and goes to look at the boxes. “Me and Adrian waited in line forever. Can you believe they almost didn't sell it to us? Asking us where our parents were, _connerie-_ ” “Did you open yours?” Val sees that the wrapping on one of the boxes is already ripped. 

“Yeah, I had to make sure they were real!” Cass rips into his box. The new broom smell hits Val. She pulls the other box towards her and begins opening it. “The guy told me someone already reserved seven, who do you think that is? All the major teams buy directly, minor leagues don’t need these-” “I’ve heard enough of your quidditch conspiracy theories,” Val finds herself excited by uncovering her new broom. Sleek black, gold lettering, Val can only assume Cass got his money's worth by the accessories that come with it. Inside the box is a care manual, cleaning cloth, as well as an official broom certificate indicating that it is real as can be. As she holds it in her hands she can feel it vibrating and she lets it go. It floats in front of them, sensitive to Val’s touch as she puts her hands on it and it gives slightly before pushing back up. She looks to Cass and breaks out in a smile. “You’re going all out aren’t you?” 

“If we’re going to be a quidditch family we got to start out right.” Cass pulls her out to the yard. Within the walls is enough room for the two of them to practice. Val always knew Cass’ life revolved around quidditch, making the peewee team, then Slytherin team as a chaser, and his aspiration was to play professionally. In the setting sun Val tunes out his words and wonders how good a picture this would be; the sun makes his dark brown hair look lighter and the scar above his eye is hardly noticeable. As he talks down to her directly Val thinks that while she and her father share facial features she and Cass share their eyes. The Warrington family were known for passing down heterochromia, Val gets it from her mother while Cass gets it from his father. Both their right eyes are a deep brown while their left is a dark gray. Val’s mind wonders on whether or not her eye color makes her more unique or less so. 

“Are you listening?” Cass gives her a light push as they hover over the grass together. Val wobbles but keeps her balance. 

“Yes. I know, you forced me to look over all those plays already.” Val rolls her eyes at him. Cass was determined for her to make the team with him. The previous year he made an agreement with Flint, the Slytherin team captain, that Val would take on the now empty seeker position. Ever since then he pushed her hard to learn quidditch. Val was never interested in it the way he or Uncle Raleigh was and only got her information from them. Nonetheless, it was fun to play with Cass and his best friend, Adrian. 

“Good, let’s start with the drills.” 

Val gives a long drawn out sigh before starting drill one out of twenty. 

  


Second year starts off well for Val. The first week was filled with talking of the summer as well as the way Harry Potter and his friend crashed a flying car into the whomping willow. More emphasis was put on the howeler that came afterwards. Val couldn’t imagine what her father would say to her, he hardly ever got angry or snapped. If he did it was usually with Uncle Raleigh or Aunt Star and never Val or Cass. 

Saturday comes quickly with Cass pulling her to the locker rooms for quidditch practice. Val yawns widely and smooths her braided hair, courtesy of her roommate and close friend, Ida. He had told her it was Flint’s tradition to handpick new players instead of ever holding tryouts. It worked in Flint’s favor as he prizes size over skill. It also worked out for Cass as no one would peg him as a chaser. Tall and broad, he seemed more fit for a keeper. 

When they come to the locker rooms it becomes clear who reserved those seven brooms. Seven Nimbus 2001 boxes cover the floor. 

“Who bought out the team?” Cass half jokes as he and Val stop inside the doorway. 

Across the room Montague speaks up from casually leaning against his locker. “We’re talking about all signing a thank you card,” he scoffs, “daddy Malfoy gave us new brooms and a seeker.” His flippant tone is shared by the team. Many either have good brooms already, or in Val and Cass’ case, already have Nimbus 2001s. She cringes visibly both from Montague referring to Mr.Malfoy as daddy and telling them Draco bought his way into her position. 

“What!?” Cass yells. He lowers his broom from his shoulders to the floor, his hands gripping the handle tightly. 

Flint appears from the other room with Draco at his side. The height disparity is enough for Val to consider if Flint ever would have thought of playing Draco otherwise. Anger forms inside her as Draco smiles. Beside her it seems Cass is having a worse reaction than her. 

“We had a deal, Flint!” He yells from across the room. No one is fazed by his yelling, especially not Flint. 

“Yeah, Warrington, we did. That was before Malfoy showed more dedication to the team.” He slaps Malfoy on the back with one hand and tosses Val a jersey with the other. “Your sisters playing reserve with the other girls.” She catches it with one hand as she sets down her broom to her side. Never taking her eyes off Flint, she hopes the anger shows in her face. The room feels hotter under everyone’s gaze. Cass steps over the boxes towards Flint. “She can play reserve or not at all.” Flint’s voice raises, “if you have a problem with it, you can leave too.” 

Val knows it would kill Cass not to play, so she puts a hand on him. There's a moment of tension before he pulls away from Val’s grasp and goes on to his locker. 

Alone in the doorway she avoids looking at Flint or Draco, and instead takes a spot beside the only two other girls along the wall. 

Flint goes on to say Malfoy’s father made a generous donation, seven brooms for the starting team members. Excluding her and other reserve players. Val dismisses him and instead focuses her hatred on Draco. Their mothers had been friends, and they themselves had been childhood friends, but in first year their differences lead them towards animosity. 

By the time Flint tells them all to get changed she still feels that anger simmering inside. She holds up the green jersey. ‘Lee’, the previous owner, had been bigger than her. Even with protective padding it would still be big. As she sighs she follows the other girls to their side of the locker room. 

“Lestrange.” Val looks to Montague. A seasoned fifth year keeper, he’s even taller than Cass is. Cass hardly ever mentioned him, only to point him out when needed. Montague tosses her a jersey. “I grew out of that one, it might fit you better.” He flexes his arm, showing defined muscle, and gives a smile. 

Val glances at Cass. He’s too preoccupied by putting on his own gear. She doesn’t know what to say to that and so turns away. Coming into the girls locker room she's hit by the strong scent of lavender. The only two other girls introduce themselves. Zoe Accrington, a 6th year, plays reserve chaser. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a messy bun and she gives off the same friendly nature that Cass does. Amelia Dobbin, another 6th year, is the reserve beater. 

After changing Val gets a look at herself in the mirror. Montague’s old jersey fits her better than she figures Lee’s would. She doesn't consider herself thin but rather having an athletic build. Always taller than average, but with Zoe and Amelia she fits right in. Montague’s name is printed on the back in bold letters along with the number 6, denoting he's always played keeper. Val thinks it must have been an old old jersey, considering he’s nowhere close to her size now. 

Together the whole team walks out to the pitch. Zoe cheerfully tells her what they do as reserves. “...usually keeping water, treating minor injuries, but mainly its subbing in games as a punishment.” Val listens to her intently. Thankful that she found someone to follow as Cass is quick to leave her for Adrain and other teammates. 

As it turns out, they interrupted the Gryffindor team practice. Both teams converge behind their captains, Flint and Wood at each other's throats about who has rights to practice. Staying towards the back Val notices that Flint only mentions Draco being new, and not her. In the harsh sunlight her glare serves two purposes. One, to show her disdain for Draco, Wood, Flint, and the Gryffindor team, and two, to somewhat keep the sun out of her eyes. A passing butterfly catches her eye as it’s way more interesting than listening to an argument. 

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood.” 

Knowing his voice Val cranes her head to see Draco. Flint has an arm protectively in front of him as it causes considerable commotion. The whole Gryffinor team is astounded by the word but for her team there's not much to it. Rude and distasteful? Yes. But unheard of? No. 

One of the Weasleys’ spell goes wrong and sends him flying across the grass. Slugs fall from his mouth with a disgusting belch. Flint and Draco are the ones who laugh the loudest. Behind them are the two beaters and Montague. Cass remains unamused, “You should act like a captain and keep your players in line.” he tells Flint. In between laughter Montague pushes Bletchley forward, “you’re a prefect, go help.” Before Bletchley can even consider helping, Weasley gets dragged away by Potter and by who Val assumes is Granger. 

Practice only infuriates Val even more. By the end she is sweaty, red, and aching from how intense Flint pushed her. 

  


Dinner comes and she’s still pissed. Dressed in her usual black turtleneck tucked into jeans, Val sits with Theodore Nott. Her roommates didn't share her same feelings about quidditch as she did. Lily reminding her “you don’t even like quidditch that much,” and Tracey giving the unhelpful advice to just quit. Theo, however, listens to her plight with interest. 

“Just push him down the stairs before a game,” he says. That makes Val smile. She pushes away her plate and rests her elbows on the table. 

“I don’t think I could do that…” Val glances further down the table to where Draco entertains his own group of friends and onlookers with an acted out story. At Malfoy Manor it had been the three of them running around harassing the pet peacocks and playing haphazardly with wands made from broken branches, occasionally using magic by accident. Last year had completely changed that. Theo faded more into the background as Val became close with her roommates. Draco, as extraverted and loud as he was, made friends the easiest, prospering with attention. “...I still feel that twinge of friendship.” She admits, looking back to Theo. Her hand falls to a butter knife. Picking it up she stabs at the table and twists it in her hand. 

He shrugs, dark hair falls into his eyes. “You could be a quidditch prodigy but you still wouldn’t outweigh new Nimbus 2001’s for the whole team.” 

“I trained all summer!” Her knife leaves a mark in the table. “He bought his way onto the team! Not to mention he intentionally provokes fights.” Val points the knife at Theo, who sits across from her with an amused look. “I’m a golden girl, Theo, I deserve that spot! How can Flint choose him over me?” She stabs the table with the knife again. 

“I don’t think your anger management is a factor.” Val considers throwing the knife at him but decides against it. “Why don’t we talk about something else?” 

Val lets the knife drop to the table to take a drink of water. “Sure.” 

“Have you heard of the recent raids?” 

Val sets down her cup carefully. “My father isn’t too worried.” 

“Ex-ministers and current Unspeakables can say that. My father packed up and sent stuff to Borgin and Burkes. Like the Malfoys.” Theo pushes his plate forwards, clinking his with hers. “Rumor is Borgin wants to see inside your house, Lestrange.” He emphasizes her surname. A snide smile spreads across his face. Val’s face remains blank. 

“We don’t have anything in our house.” 

“Not your country house. It’s your old house Borgin wants.” 

“I don’t know what’s in there, I’ve never been inside. And neither will Borgin.” 

“But you don’t know what your father does when you’re not home? Or what he does at work?” 

Uncomfortable, Val pulls away from the table. “My family isn’t interested in the dark arts.” She knows it's a lie but it’s the first excuse she can find. 

“That you know of.” He tilts his head, “I don’t think anyone can be Minister of Magic without doing some dark things.” 

Val stares at him. Her eyebrows furrow and jaw tightens. A hand comes to her back and she whips around. Tracey tells her they’re heading back to the dorm room. Val forces a smile, “I’ll be there in a little bit.” Tracey nods, smiles politely at Theo, and walks along with Ida and Lily. Val turns back to Theo with a raised eyebrow. “My father didn’t follow the Dark Lord.” 

“The rest of your family did.” 

“Voldemort died eleven years ago to a baby,” Val intentionally uses his name knowing it will make Theo cringe, and it does. “I’ll call him my Dark Lord once he shows back up and proves it.” 

Theo shows his impatience. “I just wanted to know what dark artifacts your family had. I see now though, that you don't have any idea.” 

“Angry that I had a normal, death eater free childhood?” 

“No so death eater free, considering your mother died-” “You want to talk about mothers? When did yours-” He slams his hand down on the table, the smile wiped from his face. “Don’t talk about my mother.” 

“Then don’t talk about mine.” 

They sit in a stalemate. Food abandoned, conversation continues around them, the air between them grows thick and heavy. Oblivious to their tension Draco saunters up to Theo, his two followers glowering behind him. He makes some joke to Theo but Val can’t hear over her elevated heartbeat. 

“I’ll see you later, Theo.” She gives him a smile, never looking at Draco, and leaves. Coming out of the Great Hall gives her relief. With the halls empty she stops to take a breath. _First Draco, and now Theo?_ Her mind goes back to quidditch and Montague’s robes. 

  


The laundry was filled with house elves all eager to help her. The scent of fresh laundry is almost overwhelming but she manages to get Montague’s jersey back, clean and good as new. On her way back to the Slytherin dorms she hears whispering, but finds no one around. It only grows as she comes further into the dungeons. It makes her pause before entering the common room. She chalks it up to the Bloody Baron, lamenting on his past, or maybe even the lake creatures deciding to be particularly loud today. 

The common room is quiet when she comes in. The lake shines blue light into the room, fires crackles in the hearths, a few quills scratch along parchment, and the lake noises all come together to create an ambiance that is uniquely Slytherin. The sparseness of people makes Montague stand out easily as he reads beside the lake glass wall. Steeling herself she walks over to him, finding that he’s reading a comic book. He doesn’t look up until she’s right in front of him. 

“Here’s your jersey back, just cleaned.” Val outstretches the folded jersey. 

He looks over the top of his comic before waving her off. “Keep it. Flint’s not going to give you yours.” 

“What?” 

He flips to the next page and doesn't give her a second look. “He’s not particularly helpful to reserve players.” 

Biting her lip she pulls the jersey back to her chest. He seems done with his conversation so she turns away. 

  


In her room she finds Lily, Tracey, and Ida talking about class work. Val finds herself relaxing as she gets in on the conversation too. Montague’s coldness and jersey lie forgotten on the floor, Draco and Theo are pushed to the back of her mind, and soon she falls asleep to the sound of Tracey’s radio playing some muggle station. Her sleep becomes fitful as she hears the same whispering as before, but now it becomes a clear distinct voice. 

_“Come...Come to me...Let me rip you, let me tear you...Let me kill you…”_

* * *

With a flick of his wand Rad closes and locks the door. 

“Val,” he starts out. He looks down on her, feeling conflicted on what to say. He looks to the box where a white snake-Aspen-lies coiled up inside. He closes the box and sets it aside on the bed. “Val...Our family has deep roots in dark arts…And being a Parselmouth may be passed down.” He runs a hand over his hair hoping she understands this. He carefully chooses his next words, “People don’t understand Parselmouth, and so it is considered a mark of a bad person. However,” he emphasizes this, “It does not mean you’re bad. It’s just a trait that you happen to have.” 

Val looks from him to the box. “Cass didn’t believe me.” 

He puts a hand on her back. “It’s not something you should tell anyone about.”

There's a silence in the room as Rad recoils from his words. _Adriana would have known how to tell her…_

“And what about Aspen?” Val looks up to her father with pleading eyes. 

“Aspen doesn’t belong here in the house. He needs to go back home.” 

  


Later after Cass and Val have both gone to bed Raleigh shares a drink with Rad. On the dining room table sits the box where Aspen remains inside. Dead. Rad had killed it as soon as he got it out of Val’s sight. 

“Parselmouth? _Parselmouth, Rad?_ ”Rad gives his brother a look over his draft cup but says nothing. Raleigh runs his bandaged hand through his hair, leaning against the table. “What did you tell her?” 

Rad stands up abruptly and walks around the table, avoiding the open box. “That she should keep it to herself.” 

“And how long will that last?” 

“Raleigh-” “It’s not something that goes away, Radolphus, Voldemort could-” “It’s just a trait.” Rad walks around the table back to Raleigh. 

“A real gifted trait,” Raleigh scoffs. Rad pushes Raleigh down onto the table, his forearm presses down on his chest and he uses his weight to keep him pinned there. Raleigh isn’t concerned about it. He lies there limp against the table. “I trust your parenting skills, truly I do,” he lifts up his hands in his defense, “But this is just the beginning. From here it’s a slippery slope.” 

“I trust you’ll be with us on that slope. Together. As a family.” 

Raleigh smiles. He gives a futile attempt at pushing his brother’s arm away. “Only family I got, right?” 

“You’re not flocking back to your old master now Raleigh, he’s gone.” 

“And now we might have a new one.” 

Rad presses down harder against Raleigh’s throat, earning a hiss from him. “‘M only joking!” He wheezes out. Rad lets go of him roughly. He reaches across the table to grab his draft cup and takes a long drink. Raleigh rubs his throat, “Fucking mental...Yes, I’m with you I can’t go anywhere else now can I? Fuck…” 

“You’re fine.” 

“I’m not twenty anymore and you’re sure as hell not some auror.” 

“You’re _fine_.” Rad states as he falls back down into his chair. His drink sloshes, adding a new stain to his suit. Raleigh takes a seat next to him. In the dim candlelight the fbox casts a massive shadow along the wall as if to emphasize the reason for all this upset. The glow casts everything in red. 

Raleigh clinks his cup with Rad’s. “Corvus oculum corvi non eruit, right?” 

Rad takes a moment to respond. His eyes trained on the box and the flickering candle behind it. He whispers it back to Raleigh with a heavy sigh, their family motto, “Corvus oculum corvi non eruit.” A raven will not pick out the eye of another raven, the Lestrange family motto. 


End file.
